


Storms and Oceans

by poetofstarlight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, first wizarding war, jily, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-06-26 18:42:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15669033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetofstarlight/pseuds/poetofstarlight
Summary: At the end of fifth year, Remus begins to distance himself from the Marauders. But it hurts to avoid the only people who have ever accepted him for who he truly is, especially when Sirius comes begging him for forgiveness. Sirius, who Remus can never say no to. Sirius, who has problems of his own that he can never share with the Marauders. But much bigger problems are emerging—namely the growing war. And soon, they'll all have to choose a side.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sadly, I am not J.K. Rowling and therefore do not own any part of this story except for the plot and original characters I created. Enjoy!

Normally the library was the only place Remus was able to ever find some peace. The smell of thousands of old books, of candles burning, of ink and new quills, and the sound of sharp quills against parchment—it was all so magical to Remus. He knew that was silly to say, that it was _magical_. But to Remus, it was the small things that were magical: old books holding long-forgotten information, chocolate after a particularly bad moon, and sunny days spent with friends by the lake—

Remus ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He needed to concentrate. He still had two O.W.L.s to get through, for Merlin’s sake.

“Would you look over my Potions notes?” Lily asked promptly.

“Why don’t you ask Snape,” Remus said blankly, not glancing up from the Arithmancy textbook he was trying to convince himself he was reading.

“I…” Lily trailed off.

Remus glanced up, seeing Lily’s hurt, slightly sick expression and immediately wanting to take back what he’d said.

“I—I mean—” he began. “Sorry, I just—”

“No, I know, it’s not your fault,” Lily pursed her lips. “I keep forgetting too….”

Remus bit his lip. “Of course I’ll read them. It’s just, you know, I’m not as good at Potions as…” he paused, not wanting to mention the Slytherin’s name twice.

“Right,” Lily agreed awkwardly. She shuffled her notes together and held them up to Remus, pointing at a certain line with her quill. “Do you crush or ground snake fangs in a Wideye Potion?”

“Wideye Potion?” Remus repeated. “We learned that third year, do you think that’ll really be on the exam?”

“Well I talked to Professor Slughorn, and he said that usually they test you on only the more advanced potions, but that if it appeared on one of our end-of-year exams, it was likely to show up on the O.W.L.”

“But we’ve already—” Remus began before being cut off as a stack of unshelved books toppled over behind Lily.

When he had gotten over the horror of the fallen books, he realized Sirius was standing there, shoulders hunched and staring fixedly at the ground in embarrassment.

“What are you doing here, Black?” Lily snapped, and Remus was glad she spoke so he didn’t have to.

“I was just—” Sirius started, glancing up, but stopped when his eyes met Remus’s.

“Spy much?” Remus asked weakly. He hated how small his voice sounded. He tore his eyes from Sirius’s and stared furiously at the still open Arithmancy textbook.

“I was just worried,” Sirius completed his previous statement.

“Worried about what?” Remus demanded, not looking up from the textbook.

“About you!” Sirius exclaimed. “You’re barely speaking to us ever since—”

Sirius cut himself off, and Remus was glad.

“I’m sorry, Moony,” Sirius finished lamely.

Remus chuckled hoarsely. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing too.

“Well I’m sorry to Evans too, but—”

“No, you twat,” Remus snapped, finally looking up at Sirius. “You didn’t do anything to me or Lily.”

“You want me to apologize to Sniv—”

“Don’t call him that!” Lily said. “And actually, you do owe me an apology, you and Potter both, because you _ruined_ my friendship with Severus!”

“You want to be friends with someone who calls you a you-know-what?” Sirius laughed lowly without amusement. “Honestly, Evans—”

“He wouldn’t have called me a Mudblood if you two hadn’t provoked him!” Lily shouted.

The three Gryffindors glanced at each other awkwardly as Lily’s yell subsided and students at neighboring tables turned their heads. Then came Madam Pince’s clipping footfalls.

“Out, all of you!” she hissed angrily in a low tone. “The library is not a place to shout!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am—” Lily said, grabbing her notes quickly so they would not get caught in the library books Madam Pince was collecting off their table.

“I would think you of all people would know better, Ms. Evans,” Madam Pince whisper-shouted. Then she noticed the pile of books Sirius had knocked over. “Mr. Black! What is _this_? Out now! All of you! And don’t come back until you’ve learned to control your voices and respect books!.”

The librarian whisked off to retrieve a cart for the fallen books before any of them could argue. Lily glared at Sirius, then stomped off, making a point to knock over a short stack of books near Madam Pince’s desk on her way out. Remus leaped out of his chair and tried to hurry after her.

“Moony, wait,” Sirius said, struggling to catch up.

“Just leave me alone, Sirius,” Remus said.

“No, Moony,” Sirius grabbed Remus by the wrist, forcing the werewolf to stop. He pulled Remus into a nearby alcove to get away from the sudden swarm of second years, who had obviously just finished their Defense Against the Dark Arts exam.

“Sirius, what—” Remus began.

“Just, please listen,” Sirius said. “I know what we did was bad and I know it was harsh, even for Sniv—Snape. But we’re sorry, Moony—I’m sorry—and I promise we’ll never do anything like that again.”

Remus tried not to look at the other boy, but it was impossible to avoid him in the cramped alcove Sirius had pulled them into. He hated having to look at Sirius, hated having to see the worry and the hurt in those grey eyes because of what they did to him. Remus couldn’t be angry with Sirius if he looked at him.

“It’s just…I thought you would’ve learned by now,” Remus said, choosing to look at his and Sirius’s shoes, the toes of which were touching due to the limited space of the alcove.

“Learned what?”

“To not do stupid, irrational things! I thought you were finished with that after you nearly killed Snape telling him how to get past the Willow—”

“That was an accident!” Sirius exclaimed. “You know it was.”

Remus didn’t respond. He wasn’t even mad about Sirius telling Snape about the Willow. Of course, he had been at the time, but Sirius had explained. It wasn’t Sirius’s fault, not really. But the way him and James had teased Snape the other day after the DADA O.W.L…. It wasn’t normal. There had been something about them, something malicious in their voices and their actions Remus had never seen before. And that frightened him.

“I’m just tired of having to forgive you,” Remus mumbled at last.

Remus felt Sirius reach out and tilt his chin up, forcing the werewolf to look at him instead of their shoes. All at once Remus felt his stomach flutter and churn and hop and perform a million other movements he didn’t understand as he looked into Sirius’s grey eyes. Remus hated those eyes so much because no matter what, they always told Remus exactly how Sirius was feeling. They weren’t just grey, there were storms in them. Clouds covering a dense, foggy sky, Remus swore. And maybe most people couldn’t see past the clouds, but Remus could. He saw right to the dark gray sleet hidden behind all the mist. When he saw what was there—the hurt, the pain, the sorrow, the love, the joy, the mischief—he couldn’t help but throw caution to the wind and forgive Sirius.

“I’m tired of hurting you,” Sirius whispered, his gaze growing more intense the longer he stared at Remus. The werewolf longed desperately to look back at the floor. “So I won’t anymore.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Padfoot,” Remus said quietly.

“Well then I’ll make it work that way. I’ll make it work because I don’t want to hurt you Moony, I—” Sirius paused, his brow furrowing in confusion at the words he had stopped himself from saying.

Remus bit his lip, hardly breathing anymore from the stress Sirius’s gaze inflicted in him.

“I hate when you do that,” Sirius said, and his words sounded rushed, as if they were acting of their own accord and falling from his lips without his consent.

“Do what?” Remus asked, still biting his lip.

In response, Sirius’s eyes finally dropped from Remus’s, and his thumb moved slowly from Remus’s chin to the werewolf’s lip, where he pulled down gently, forcing Remus’s teeth to release.

Sirius’s eyes returned to Remus’s own, and the black haired boy suddenly blushed ever so slightly, as if he’d only just realized what he’d done. Remus didn’t say anything. His gaze was frozen on the storm in Sirius’s eyes, which was suddenly all so much clearer than before. For the flicker of a moment, Remus thought Sirius was leaning forward, but then he dropped his hand, becoming the one to stare intently at the floor.

“We, uh,” Sirius said gruffly, then coughed as if to rid himself of other words. “We all miss you. James, Peter, and I. So—so you should come back. I mean, talk to us again and all.”

Before Remus could reply, Sirius had exited the alcove and was making his way down the hall. Remus bit hit lip again and slumped to the ground, burying his head in his knees.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world of Harry Potter isn't mine. Only the OC's and the plot I make up belong to me.

James’s head had nearly dropped all the way into his Muggle Studies textbook (from exhaustion rather than attentiveness) when Sirius flopped onto the sofa beside him, startling James awake.

“Where’ve you been?” James asked groggily, yawning and stretching his arms behind his head.

“Nowhere,” Sirius replied quite quickly.

James raised a curious eyebrow. “What were you doing?”

“Nothing,” Sirius said evasively, pulling his book bag onto his lap and busying himself with searching through it.

“Were you planning something?”

“Great Godric, can’t I do anything without having you pestering me about it?” Sirius snapped.

James stared at him in sleepy shock. “I was just wondering.”

“Well wonder less,” Sirius muttered, discarding his book bag and crossing his arms to stare at the fire moodily.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” James demanded.

“Nothing,” Sirius repeated.

“Obviously it’s something,” James said frustratedly.

“Just leave it, Prongs.”

“Why?”

“Because!”

“Why are you mad at me?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Give a guess.”

“Sirius, what—”

“You’ve ruined everything, you know,” Sirius broke out. “Moony hates us.”

“And that’s my fault?” James demanded.

“Your the one who attacked Snivelly, aren’t you?”

“Might I remind you that it was _your_ idea?” James said, raising his voice.

“I just wanted to scare him a bit!” Sirius exclaimed back. When a few third years nearby turned to stare in curiosity, he lowered his voice. “You know why I asked you. But you had to take it and turn it in to a way to impress Evans!”

“I was only doing it for _you_!” James spat. “Have some thanks!”

“How can I be thankful when Moony hates us?” Sirius demanded.

“That’s not my fault!” James insisted.

“See, I told you not to ask,” Sirius glared, standing up, grabbing his book bag, and leaving.

James sat there dumbfounded. It hadn’t been his idea to attack Snape. He had been _helping_ Sirius. Padfoot was the one that had come to him a few nights before, looking broken and angry in a way that frightened James. He had said it was Snivellus’s fault.

_“How?” James asked. “Why?”_

_“It’s just—he knows too much,” Sirius said. “He’s been pestering me nonstop and I’m sick of it.”_

_“What do you want to do about it?” James had asked without further question to what Snape was bothering him about, because he knew that whatever it was, Sirius was justified. And he’d do anything for Sirius, just as Sirius would do anything for him._

But yes, he knew they had gone too far the other day by the lake. They had been cruel, overly harsh, and it hadn’t been what they’d intended, not exactly. Despite what Sirius said, though, James hadn't gone overboard to impress Lily. He’d gone overboard because he was frightened. The way Sirius had looked that night when James had stumbled across him in the second floor hidden corridor while taking a shortcut to the kitchens…. Sirius had been angry, but also hurt and scared, James had known, in a way James had never seen before, in a way that had frightened him. And he would easily punish anyone tenfold for making his best friend feel like that.

\- - -

Lily strained to concentrate on the words of her Ancient Runes textbook as she sat at the window seat of her dormitory, but it was to no avail. It was nearly midnight, Lily was sure all of Gryffindor Tower was asleep, but here she was, pretending to study. She could just as easily pretend to sleep, but she knew if she did her mind would wander more than it already was. A voice inside her head told her that if she didn’t sleep soon, she’d fail her O.W.L. tomorrow due to exhaustion. The voice, though, was not powerful enough to lull the rest of Lily’s mind into submission.

The sound of the dormitory door opening caused Lily to jerk her head in that direction. She was startled to see Marlene standing there, looking annoyed and slightly disheveled. Of course, neither of those characteristics were unusual for Marlene, but seeing them manifested in an awake version of the girl at midnight certainly was.

“I thought you were asleep,” Lily said, glancing over at Marlene's bed, where the curtains were drawn.

“Detention,” Marlene explained simply.

“This late on the night before an O.W.L.?” Lily said skeptically.

Marlene rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine, I had some business to attend to.”

“What sort of business?”

“Had to get back at Mulciber, didn’t I?” Marlene shrugged.

“On the night before an O.W.L.?”

“You’re one to talk,” Marlene said, gesturing to Lily’s open book. “And anyway, I would’ve been back earlier if I hadn’t been delayed for nearly half an hour by Snape.”

“Sev delayed you from coming to bed?”

“It wasn’t his intention,” Marlene said. “He’s been standing out there for hours waiting for you. I tried to convince him to leave but he’s threatening to sleep out there.”

“He will not,” Lily said angrily, tossing her book aside and standing. “I’m going out there.”

“Oh, Lily, don’t,” Marlene sighed. “He’s not worth it.”

“I know he’s not,” Lily replied. “But I don’t want him hanging around anymore. I want him gone for good.”

Marlene looked as if she wanted to argue, but Lily didn’t let her. She pushed past her friend to the door, being careful to tiptoe on her way down to the common room so as not to wake her fellow Gryffindors. As she exited the portrait hole, her heart fell a little when she saw Severus standing there in his Slytherin robes, hair lank and greasy as ever. She had hoped he would have gone by the time she made it down.

“Lily,” was all he said at first.

“You should go,” Lily said, crossing her arms over her pale pink night dress.

“No, Lily—” Severus began.

“No?” Lily repeated indignantly. “I don’t think you’re in the position to tell me no, Sev.”

The Slytherin ducked his head in slight defeat. Lily hated how pathetic he looked, hated how naive he was, hated everything about him in that moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last.

Lily nearly laughed. “Well I’m not interested.”

“I’m sorry!” Severus practically whined.

“I’m not here to forgive you,” Lily said. She was surprised at how strong and sure her voice sounded, and at the triumphant feeling in her chest when she saw how her tone made Severus seem to shrink back in fright and weakness. _That’s what he is,_ Lily thought angrily. _Weak. He always has been, and he always will be._

“Please just listen,” Snape begged.

“I only came out to tell you to leave,” Lily said. “To tell you it’s over and that we’re not friends anymore so that you’d stop hanging around and threatening to sleep out here.”

“It wasn’t just a threat!” Snape exclaimed agitatedly. “I would have slept out here, I would have waited out here forever.”

“Lucky for you, now you don’t have to,” Lily said, turning to enter the still open portrait hole.

“Wait! Please!” Snape pleaded, sounding so pitiful and pathetic that Lily paused. She turned back around to glare at him. He looked frightened. “I never meant to call you a…a—”

“A Mudblood?” Lily supplied. “Well you have, just like you call every other Muggle-born in this school. So why should I be any different? Why should I get special treatment? Merlin’s wand, I can’t believe I ever actually defended you! My friends have been telling me for years to get rid of you. I should have listened. I should have stopped talking to you the minute you started hanging out with your precious little Death Eater friends.”

Lily paused to catch her breath. Snape did not reply.

“You don’t even deny it, don’t you see? You don’t even deny that’s what you want to become, one of his followers. I thought—I thought you might realize how awful it was. That’s what I told myself. That’s what I told everyone! That you weren’t evil, you were just confused or curious, but that you would never consider actually joining up,” Lily shook her head. “I can’t do it anymore, Sev. I can’t pretend it isn’t what it is. You’ve chosen your way and I’ve chosen mine, and I can’t be friends with someone who’s chosen what you have.”

Lily stopped. Her words had become soft and resigned. Snape looked as if he were struggling to form a singular thought. She didn’t even bother to glare at him again as she turned to climb back through the portrait hole. Once it had swung closed behind her, she dropped to her knees, feeling hot tears escape her eyes, and an audible whimper leave her mouth.

“Lily?” a voice said.

Lily quieted and looked for the source of the voice, but the common room was dark and shadowy this late at night.

“Marlene?” she whispered inquiringly, and then saw the dark outline of a figure emerge from a particularly cushy chair near the fireplace. It was only until the figure was practically directly in front of her that she realized who it was.

“Are you alright?” James Potter asked, crouching down in front of her.

Lily wanted to tell him to bugger off, but when she opened her mouth to reply, she found she couldn’t form any words. Heavy tears spilled from her eyes even faster, forcing her to merely shake her head. No, she was not alright. She was anything but alright.

She thought Potter would press her with questions, demand who had made her cry, but he instead reached out wordlessly, pulling her into his arms, and Lily found she didn’t push him away.

“It’s okay,” James said, rubbing her back. “It’ll be okay.”

“I was so stupid,” Lily finally managed in barely a whisper.

“No,” James decided. “No, you weren’t.”

Lily didn’t think he could possibly know what she was talking about, unless he had been listening to her and Snape’s conversation, which should have made her angry. But she didn’t have enough space left in her heart to be angry. All she had now was sorrow, so she buried her face in James Potter’s shoulder and sobbed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't own Harry Potter, just my own plot/original characters. Enjoy!

“I'm getting a T, I just know it,” Peter groaned, dropping his head in the textbook he had open at the Gryffindor table.

Sirius was keenly aware of James trying to exchange glance with him, but ignored his friend and instead glared intently at his toast while buttering it. James sighed and turned to Wormtail.

“Honestly mate, it’s just Muggle Studies,” James said, pulling the book from under Peter and squinting at the text. He was exhausted from having stayed up so late. _If anyone’s getting a T today, it’s me,_ James thought. “Explain the difference between electricity and elasticity, Pete.”

Peter’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh no! I thought they were the same thing!”

“Have you even payed attention to a single thing we’ve learned since third year?” Sirius said bitterly, stabbing a sausage dejectedly with his fork.

“Not all of us have got a photographic memory like you, Pads,” said a familiar voice, startling Sirius, who glanced up to see Remus standing behind James, book bag hanging lazily off his shoulder.

“I—uh…yeah,” Sirius replied smoothly.

Remus dropped his glance, fixating his eyes instead upon a box of cereal on the breakfast table. He took a breath, considering. “Look, don’t think I’m not still mad at you lot. I am. I just…well it would be nice to sit with the Marauders again.”

James grinned, pulling Remus’s book bag off his arm. “Sit down, Moony. Have some Pumpkin Juice.”

Remus smiled faintly and took a seat beside James, right across from Sirius, who again became very interested in buttering his toast.

“Moony, do you know the difference between electricity and elasticity?” Peter asked hopelessly.

Remus looked at him questioningly. “Elasticity? You mean like rubber bands?”

“I thought that was electricity,” Peter said, grabbing his book back from James in confusion and scrutinizing the page.

“I really don’t understand how you’re still in that class,” Sirius said. Remus chuckled somewhat nervously and glanced at Sirius, biting his lip. Then he flushed pink and released his lip, resorting to bite the nail of his thumb instead.

James glanced between the two of them with a mildly bemused expression. He opened his mouth to say something, but they were spared by a new voice, this time from behind Sirius.

“We need to talk.”

It was Regulus, looking haggard and clutching a crumpled letter in his hand.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“It’s about Father.”

“Has he finally kicked the bucket?”

“No, this isn’t a joke, Sirius,” Regulus sighed, exasperated.

“Well what is it then?”

Regulus glanced over the other three Marauders, who were all leaning forward inquisitively.

“Not here,” he told Sirius. “C’mon.”

Before Sirius could argue, Regulus walked away.

“What d’you reckon that’s about?” James asked.

“No idea,” Sirius replied, grabbing his toast and hurrying to follow Regulus out of the Great Hall.

Regulus didn’t stop walking until they reached an isolated nook on the way to the dungeons.

“How well do you think you’ve done on your O.W.L.s so far?” Regulus asked finally, leaning against the wall and attempting to smooth the letter he had clutched in his fist.

“What?” Sirius asked confusedly.

“Your O.W.L.s, Sirius,” Regulus said urgently. “Do you think you’ve done well?”

“I mean, yeah, I always do well enough,” Sirius shrugged. “Why did you drag me away from breakfast for this?”

“Because you’ve got to get five,” Regulus said. “You have to.”

“Why are you so concerned about my academic performance suddenly?” Sirius said, still lost.

“Because Father wrote me this morning,” Regulus said, waving the letter. “He’s threatening to disown you if you don’t get at least five.”

“If he's so perturbed why doesn't he just write to me instead of making you his owl?”

“Because he knows you toss his letters in the fire without reading them.”

“I read them,” Sirius defended. When Regulus just stared at him, he added, “Well, sometimes. And why did he wait until my last day of exams to announce this?”

“I don’t think he saw the importance until now,” Regulus said, folding the letter along its preexisting creases.

“Why’s he resorting to his threat of disowning me, anyway?” Sirius further questioned. “It hasn’t ever worked before. He isn’t big on follow through.”

“He writes me all the time telling me to pass on his threats,” Regulus admitted, still focusing his attention on the letter. “I just don’t bother.”

“Then why are you bothering now?”

“Because…” Regulus trailed off. “Because I think this time he really means it.”

“How do you know?” Sirius demanded.

Regulus hesitated. His eyes gray eyes, so gray and similar to his brother's, flicked up from the letter to meet Sirius's. They quickly shot down again to the letter in his hands, though, as if he were afraid to look at Sirius for too long.

“What is it, Reg?” Sirius pressed, becoming worried.

“He’s been making arrangements,” Regulus explained.

“He—what?” Sirius said. “ _Marriage_ arrangements, you mean?”

Regulus nodded glumly.

“Merlin’s beard,” Sirius groaned. “Does he really think I’ll marry anyone he approves of?”

“He knows you will if you want to stay in the family.”

“Maybe I don’t care to stay in the family.”

In a sudden flash of movement, Regulus grabbed the front of Sirius’s robes and pushed him up against the wall.

“This isn’t a bloody joke, Sirius!” he shouted.

“Great Godric, Reg!” Sirius exclaimed, shoving his little brother away. “Why do you care?”

“Why do I care?” Regulus laughed, though he sounded far from amused. “Because you’re not getting disowned, Sirius. You’re not leaving the family, you’re not going to protest Father’s marriage arrangements!”

“I’ll do whatever I bloody want,” Sirius spat. “I’m not marrying whatever pureblood maniac he chooses.”

“You’re not leaving me!” Regulus bellowed, startling Sirius, who realized there were tears in his little brother’s eyes now. “You might have been sorted into Gryffindor, but we’re brothers, Sirius, and I can’t stand them all without you, alright?”

“Reg...” Sirius trailed off, approaching his brother tentatively and awkwardly patting Regulus’s shoulder. To Sirius’s surprise, Regulus grabbed him, pulling him into a hug.

“Please don’t leave me alone with them,” Regulus whispered.

“Okay,” Sirius said, still uncomfortable with the amount of physical affection his brother was showing. Never in his life could Sirius remember anyone in his family hugging. Even when they were little, and Reg would come into Sirius’s room in the middle of the night, frightened from a nightmare, they never hugged or cuddled. Sirius would only read Reg _Babbity Rabbity_ , tell him it was alright, and let him sleep beside him for the rest of the night.

Regulus pulled away at last, studying the ground so Sirius wouldn’t see the tears they both already knew were there.

“I…I think he’s been having trouble finding anyone to consider you with your reputation and all,” Regulus explained in a croaky voice. “I think that's why he's only just now sending the letter, because it's only just become apparent.”

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll all turn him down,” Sirius said.

Regulus glared at him. “Don’t joke like that. If he doesn’t find anyone he’ll definitely disown you.”

“I can’t marry who he wants me to, Reg,” Sirius said.

“Why not?” Regulus complained. “You don’t care who you date.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means you’ve never dated anyone,” Regulus shrugged. “And your at the end of your fifth year.”

“Loads of fifth years don’t date.”

“Not the ones you hang around with,” Regulus argued. “Potter’s already dated about half the girls in your year.”

“That’s just because he thinks he’s making Evans jealous,” Sirius said. “But anyway, that’s beside the point.”

“I just mean if you don't care about dating, why does it even matter who you marry?”

“Because I wouldn’t be the one picking them!” Sirius exclaimed.

“She might not be that bad,” Regulus reasoned.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I don’t care how beautiful she is, I won’t marry her.”

“Why?” Regulus laughed. “Are you into blokes or something?”

Sirius gaped at him a moment, then spluttered, “I—what?”

Now Regulus rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, don’t get so flustered. I was joking.”

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck. “Er, yeah. Right.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes at Sirius. “Merlin—”

“I should go back to the Hall,” Sirius cut him off quickly. “I need to study so I don’t get disowned, remember?”

When Sirius reached the Marauders again, waiting outside the grand doors of the Great Hall with many of their fellow fifth years to be let in for the Muggle Studies exam, Peter was completely unravelling.

“Why did I choose to take Muggle Studies,” he moaned in agony as Remus and James attempted to quiz him.

“You didn’t, Moony made you,” Sirius said.

Remus shook his head. “I did not make him take anything. I merely encouraged him.”

“More like aggressively shoved him into it,” Sirius countered.

“Well, I was tired of having to explain Muggle things to the lot of you,” Remus shrugged. “You kept bombarding me with questions after finding out my mother is a Muggle.”

Peter sighed and grabbed his textbook from James, who turned to Sirius. "What did Regulus want?"

"Father's just threatening to disown me," Sirius said. "Nothing unusual."

"Then why'd he bother having a secret conversation with you?" Remus questioned.

"It wasn't a secret conversation," Sirius said. "He just didn't want you lot interjecting."

"It can't have possibly been nothing unusual," Remus argued. "He barely ever talks to you."

"Why don't you just quiz Peter and stay out of it," Sirius snapped. Remus looked stricken and annoyed, immediately causing Sirius to regret his words, yet before he could take it back, Remus turned his back and pulled Peter aside to help him study.

"What's up with you, mate?" James said.

"Why's he even here?" Sirius demanded. "He doesn't take Muggle Studies."

"Why are you being such a git?" James said, obviously angry. "First you act put out because he's ignoring us, then you're mean to him when he comes back. Make up your mind, Pads."

"Why does he have to pester me!" Sirius exclaimed, causing several heads to turn.

"Why do _you_ have to be so secretive all of a sudden?" James pressed in a quieter tone. "We all know Regulus didn't pull you aside to just tell you your dad's threatening to disown you."

Sirius glared at James. "Just stay out of it, Prongs."

James crossed his arms. "Not when you act like a git to Moony."

"Fine! He's making marriage arrangements!" Sirius whisper-shouted. "And he's having trouble finding anyone to consider me, so he wants me to get five O.W.L.s to mend my reputation as the white sheep amongst the Blacks."

" _Marriage_ arrangements?" James said in shock, but before he could question Sirius further, the doors of the Great Hall opened, and Sirius purposely let himself get separated in the swarm of students.

He didn't want to have to explain marriage arrangements or any other Black family practice to his friends. It was like trying to explain Muggle Studies to Wormtail—utterly impossible. And the more he explained the practice, the more he dwelled on it, and the more he realized how inescapable his fate was. At Hogwarts he could be a Gryffindor, a Marauder, an impulsive, rebellious teenager. But at 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius knew from experience, rebels didn't survive.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wizarding world belongs to J.K. Rowling, only my plot and original characters belong to me. Leave a comment if you enjoy :) I love hearing from you guys.

It was a glum and uneventful ride back to King’s Cross Station. James played Exploding Snap with Peter in an attempt to make clear to Sirius how frustrated he was about Sirius evading questions on Orion’s marriage arrangements. Sirius pretended that James’s silent treatment was exactly what he wanted and stared out the window the entire time. Really, James’s silent treatment didn’t bother him all that much. What bothered him was Remus, who was giving Sirius his own version of the silent treatment by reading most of the way and only making conversation with James and Peter about summer plans.

When the train finally pulled into Platform 9 3/4, Sirius rushed out of the carriage before saying goodbye, for he thought one more moment of the oppressive silence might suffocate him. He spotted Kreacher waiting for he and Regulus and joined him.

“Master Sirius,” Kreacher bowed lowly, a mocking sneer twisted beneath his pointed nose. “Did Master have a pleasant year?”

“Absolutely splendid,” Sirius drawled.

“Hello Kreacher,” Regulus said rather cheerfully as he joined them. “Where’s Mum?”

“Mistress is busy preparing the home for tonight,” Kreacher responded.

“What’s tonight?” Sirius asked.

Kreacher grinned wickedly. “Does Master Sirius not know? The Parkinsons are to be our guests for dinner.”

“He’s already setting up dinner?” Sirius exclaimed. “He hasn’t even asked for my opinion on the matter.”

“I don’t think he really cares about your opinion,” said Regulus, his eyes looking apologetic.

Sirius sighed. “Let’s leave, Kreacher.”

“Anything for Master Sirius,” Kreacher sneered, holding out his arm for them to hold onto.

“Sirius, wait!” someone shouted, causing Sirius to whirl around and come face to face with Remus.

“I—” Remus began, then glanced calculatingly at Regulus and Kreacher, who were looking at him with interest. He grabbed Sirius by the shoulder, pulling him aside. “Look, I’m sorry. I wanted to apologize before we got off the train, but you left before I could.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Moony,” Sirius argued to the ground. “I’m the one who should apologize.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Remus insisted. “I shouldn’t have pried when you didn’t want to talk about what Regulus told you.”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have been such a git,” Sirius argued, still to the ground rather than Remus.

“Sirius, look at me,” Remus said, reaching out and tilting Sirius’s chin up, reminding Sirius of their exchange in the alcove after the library the other day and causing him to step back, out of Remus’s reach. He glanced over worriedly at his brother and Kreacher, but luckily Regulus seemed to be blocking the house elf’s view as he told him animatedly all that had happened at school since Christmas. When he turned back to Remus, he saw the werewolf had flushed pink and was biting his lip.

Sirius took a step forward. “I told you I hate it when you do that,” he told Remus, reaching out before he could stop himself to gently tug Remus’s lip from his teeth.

Remus went pinker, but looked less hurt. “You should probably get home, then.”

“Right,” Sirius nodded. “Don’t forget to write me.”

“Am I ever the one who forgets to write?” Remus teased.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Oh please, I’m highly prolific.”

Before he could walk away, however, Remus pulled him into a tight hug. _What is it lately with people hugging me,_ Sirius thought embarrassedly.

“James told me about the marriage arrangements,” Remus whispered into Sirius’s ear. “Give ‘em hell, Padfoot.”

Remus grinned as he pulled away from Sirius, who couldn’t help but smile back at the werewolf.

“I’ll do my best, Moony,” he said, and went to rejoin Regulus and Kreacher.

“Is Master Sirius ready?” Kreacher said.

Sirius didn’t reply, but took Kreacher’s arm along with Regulus. The house elf disapparated, and Sirius soon found himself in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, his mother ordering around a swarm of house elves.

“Regulus!” Walburga said over the clatter of pots and pans when she saw her sons had returned home. She engulfed her youngest in a hug. When she pulled away, she looked Sirius up and down with mild disgust, making him suddenly wish he’d changed out of his Gryffindor robes before getting off the train. “You’re father wants to speak to you.”

“I just got home,” Sirius complained, more to himself than to his mother.

“Yes, it certainly took you long enough,” Walburga said. “I expected you to arrive ten minutes ago.”

“Master Sirius was speaking to a friend,” explained Kreacher, always happy to blame the elder Black son.

“Not for long,” Regulus cut in quickly. “It was mostly my fault. I took a while to find them on the platform.”

“Your father is in his office,” Walburga said, turning her back on the boys. “Go now.”

Sirius sighed and lugged his trunk out of the kitchen. On his way up the stairs he met the house elf Nobby, who was dusting a banister.

“Would Master Sirius like Nobby to take that to his room for him?” Nobby asked, gesturing to Sirius’s trunk.

“Yeah, thanks, Nobby,” Sirius said.

Nobby tucked the feather duster under his arm and happily snapped his fingers to make the trunk hover in the air, directing it up the stairs. He was the only house elf that Sirius had managed to get on his side, as all the others were happy to follow Walburga’s example by either ignoring him or sneering at him.

Sirius stopped on the next landing and paused in front of the door here, his knuckles raised. He finally sighed and rapped on the polished wood.

“Come in,” came his father’s voice from inside. Sirius pushed the door open and took a step inside. His father was sitting at his desk, writing something with great haste. For someone who didn’t have an actual job his father hardly ever stopped working. Finally he put his pen down, saying, “How did your exams go?”

“Exceedingly average,” Sirius drawled.

Orion sighed and rested his chin on the tips of his fingers, considering Sirius. His hair was pepper gray, and always had been, as far as Sirius could remember. His eyes were equally gray. They weren’t like Sirius’s and Regulus’s, though. They were much lighter, almost white, which gave him the look of some ghoul-like demon. Sirius tried to avoid looking in those eyes at all costs, for he felt as if they bared straight into his soul. So he dropped his eyes to the carpeted floor, kicking himself mentally, for he hated to yield to his father’s power like that. At the same time, though, he could not bring himself to look into those milky gray eyes that always dotted the monsters of his nightmares.

“We are having company for dinner and I expect you to be on your best behavior,” Orion continued.

“That’s setting the bar pretty low,” Sirius muttered.

“Don’t mumble,” Orion ordered. “I trust Regulus informed you I’ve been looking into your arrangements?”

Sirius nodded.

“Unfortunately, with your… _reputation_ , it seems most of the most esteemed families I’d had in mind since your birth fear their daughters may be corrupted by your…regrettable behavior,” Orion spoke slowly, always carefully choosing his words. Sirius hated that. _Just speak your mind,_ he thought. _Not every single thing has to be so bloody perfect._ “I have managed to convince the Parkinsons to meet us, however. They’re certainly not as admirable a family as us, but we will have to stoop to such levels for you.”

_Thank you?_ Sirius thought without replying.

“Now, I want you to change out of those hideous robes and put on some proper clothing for dinner,” Orion said. “And do not be late.”

Sirius nodded, then turned and left. In his room, he flopped down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling he’d stuck a large Gryffindor banner to the summer before. He’d been made to help the house elves scrub the bathrooms for the rest of the holiday when his mother had discovered it, but that certainly hadn’t been the worst punishment she could have unleashed. Sirius sighed, thinking of his brief conversation with Remus before leaving Kings Cross.

_“Give ‘em hell, Padfoot.”_

_“I’ll do my best, Moony.”_

“It’ll never be enough,” he said to himself now. “We’re destined to meet our fate eventually, Moony. You of all people should know.”

There was a knock on Sirius’s door, which opened before he could respond. He sat up to see Regulus standing there in his best dress robes. He furrowed his brow in confusion at Sirius.

“Who were you talking to?” he asked.

“No one,” Sirius answered evenly. “You know, you’re supposed to wait until I say ‘come in.’”

Regulus didn’t smile. “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

“I was getting around to it.”

“They’ll be here in five minutes, Sirius.”

“How is it you always know more about what’s going on than I do?”

Now Regulus smiled. “Maybe because I bother to talk to the house elves.”

“It’s not my fault they all hate me,” Sirius said.

“You could act a bit more civil toward them,” Regulus suggested.

“They started it!” Sirius exclaimed. Then added grumpily, “Nobby likes me.”

Regulus shook his head. “Get dressed. We should be down there before they arrive.”

Sirius wore a robes of deep indigo, mainly because he knew his father hated the color. He wondered how long he could stay up here before they sent someone to get him. Maybe the Parkinsons would be halfway through their meal by the time Orion became fed up with Sirius enough to take his bait and send a house elf or Regulus to fetch him down. Sirius frowned at his own reflection. The thought was enticing, but he had to admit that he was not keen on discovering how his father would react to such behavior after the Parkinsons had left.

When he arrived in the dining room, Orion was sat at the head of the table. As Sirius sat beside Regulus, his younger brother gave him a sympathetic look. Sirius shrugged and turned toward his mother, who was standing at the grand dining room fireplace, evidently in a foul mood.

“They should have arrived two minutes ago,” she sniffed in annoyance, checking the clock which hung above the mantle. “They should be thankful for even being welcomed into our home.” She turned to Sirius. “We wouldn’t have to deal with this if your father could have made arrangements with better families.”

“Some say it’s polite to be fashionably late,” Sirius replied tiredly.

Walburga glared at him and then turned back to the fireplace just as the flames began to burn green. Mr. Parkinson stepped out, looking somewhat sooty from the travel. He removed the soot with a spell, then crossed to Orion.

“Thank you for having us,” he said, shaking Orion’s hand.

“My pleasure,” Orion said, and Sirius snorted, because it most definitely wasn’t. Regulus shot him a look. “Please, take a seat,” Orion gestured to the long dining table. “Kreacher, take his coat.”

As the formidable house elf hurriedly obeyed, the flames turned green again, this time spitting out Alondra Parkinson and her mother. As another house elf took her coat, Walburga, who was still beside the fireplace, embraced Alondra and her mother.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Walburga said, guiding Alondra over to the table and seating her directly across from Sirius, who she told, “This is Alondra.”

“Thanks for clarifying,” he replied, not looking at the girl.

“Mrs. Parkinson,” Walburga smiled, choosing to ignore Sirius’s comment. “We’re so eager to welcome you into our home.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. Regulus kicked him underneath the table.

“Thank you, we’re so happy to be here,” Mrs. Parkinson agreed smoothly. “This is for all of you.”

She held out a wine bottle to Sirius’s mother, who took it and added, “How thoughtful” before passing it on to a house elf to take to the kitchen.

“Laurence’s brother owns a winery,” Mrs. Parkinson continued as she and Walburga took their seats. “That is one of his bests, by far.”

“Alondra says both your sons play Quidditch at school,” Mr. Parkinson— _Laurence,_ Sirius thought to himself with distaste—changed the subject.

Sirius glanced at Alondra. She was staring at the empty plate in front of her in a way that told Sirius she was extremely unhappy with having to be here. He couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t want to marry him if he was her. Alondra was in the same year as him, he knew, and a Slytherin. He recognized her from Quidditch, for she was the Slytherin keeper and captain.

“Yes, Sirius plays…” Orion trailed off, apparently unable to recall the position his son held on the Gryffindor team.

Regulus kicked Sirius again beneath the table, prompting him to finish Orion’s sentence. “Beater. I’m a beater.”

Laurence nodded. “And you, Regulus?”

“Seeker,” Regulus provided.

Sirius fell silent after this. For most of the meal, neither him nor Alondra spoke, as their parents did so for them. Both sets of parents seemed to be intent upon painting their children as better than they actually were, for Mrs. Parkinson claimed Alondra was the top student in her and Sirius’s year ( _Which is definitely not true,_ Sirius thought grudgingly, _Everyone knows Evans and Remus are the best in our year_ ). Orion then proceeded to boast how he believed Sirius would be getting six E’s on his O.W.L.s. When this topic of discussion subsided, however, Mr. Parkinson leaned forward intently and said, “I’m curious, Orion, as to your opinion on the growing…Death Eater movement, as I believe they call themselves?”

Sirius’s heart sank. He had been hoping politics would be an avoided subject of conversation this evening. Orion nodded slowly. “Of course it is a noble cause, fighting for the triumph of wizards over Muggles. I certainly have no trouble saying that I support their cause fully, though I do fear they may get ahead of themselves, as Grindewald and his movement certainly did. One must always place logic over impulse.”

Mr. Parkinson nodded. “I agree. This Lord Voldemort, as I believe they call him, seems to have his ideals set straight. I think he may be the leader the wizarding world has been in need of for a long time now. My family and I have always believed in the superiority of wizards.”

Before Orion could respond, Sirius blurted to Alondra, “How do you think you did on the Muggle Studies exam?”

She looked up from her dish. She really was quite pretty, with long medium brown hair and bright hazel eyes. At first, Sirius had only recognized her from Quidditch despite having had Muggle Studies with her since third year, as she always sat in the back with the other few Slytherins who took the class and hardly ever raised her hand.

Alondra smirked at Sirius, realizing his intent. “I think I at least got an Exceeds Expectations, though that short essay on the development of cars was difficult.”

“It was so specific!” Sirius agreed, as if this were something he had been dying to discuss with a fellow student. “James swears it was the easiest of the topics, but the one on electricity was way better.”

“Sirius, that’s enough,” Orion ordered. “You are embarrassing yourself.”

“What’s wrong with educating yourself on the enemy, father?” Sirius asked innocently.

“We could certainly learn a few things from Muggles,” Alondra agreed.

“Alondra!” Mrs. Parkinson exclaimed.

“Did I mention I plan to be an Auror?” Sirius told Alondra. “Future spouses ought to know each other’s career plans, don’t you think?”

Orion pushed his chair back, standing up suddenly and resting his fists on either side of his plate.

“I apologize for my son’s behavior,” he said. “I’m afraid this a family matter, however, and must be dealt with accordingly. It was wonderful having you, but I think it best if you leave.”

He said all this while glaring at Sirius.

When the Parkinsons had left, all the while apologizing for Alondra’s behavior, Sirius finally dropped his father’s gaze. It was easy to stare into those ghoul-like eyes in the presence of others, to feign bravery, but when it was only him and his family, Sirius struggled to live up to his title as a Gryffindor.

“ _What_ did you think you were doing?” Orion demanded. “That was the only family I’ve managed to convince to consider you and now I’ll have to start all over. If I don’t find you a suitable partner, you will not have any place in this family.”

Sirius mumbled something inaudible.

“Speak up” his father ordered.

“I said don’t bother!” Sirius shouted, standing up now as well. “Do not look for another family, do not make another one of my classmates sit here and have to listen to their parents try to please you. Do not look for another suitable girl. I want no place in this family!”

“Sirius!” Regulus hissed.

“You stay out of this!” Orion said, jabbing a finger in Regulus’s direction.

“Don’t talk to him like that!” Sirius defended. “He’s the closest thing you’ve got to your ideal son; I wouldn’t push it if I were you!”

“The same could be said to you,” Orion replied too quietly, sending chills down Sirius’s spine. “Now leave before I decide to not give you a second chance.”

Sirius fell silent, staring at his father. It wasn't like Orion to finish a fight with a simple _go to your room_. Regulus, however, shoved Sirius out of his stupor by pushing him out into the hall and closing the dining room door on him.

Sirius stomped up the stairs to his room. Inside, he threw open his trunk and began strewing its contents across the floor. He had no idea what he was looking for until he found it: a crumpled photo that had slipped to the bottom of his trunk.

He held it up, leaning back against the footboard of his bed. It was a Muggle photo from earlier this year, of him, James, Remus, and Peter. They’d taken it before…before everything had become complicated. James had been completely amazed by the prospect of a disposable camera, which they had read about in Muggle Studies toward the end of fourth year, so Remus had brought James one at the start of fifth year, and then had sent it home to his mother to develop the photos.

The Marauders had made a reluctant Alice Miller take the photo, Sirius remembered. The four of them were in the Quidditch stands, after James and Sirius’s practice. Remus had a book in his lap, and was laughing at Sirius and James, who were making joking faces at the camera. Sirius stared at Remus’s expression in that picture. His silver-blue eyes were alight with happiness from his laugh. Sirius loved those eyes. They were the color of a sparkling ocean, he’d always thought, and the waves which lived in them could either roll gently or crash threateningly upon the shore, depending on the werewolf's mood.

Sirius knew Remus had been half-joking at the train station when he’d said _“Give ‘em hell, Prongs”_ , but Sirius's own response had felt like a promise. He knew he could only resist marriage arrangements for so long. Even if he scared off the Parkinsons tonight, and the next family, and then the next, eventually Orion would run out of possible brides, leaving him with only the option of disowning Sirius. And though he tried to act as if that didn’t bother him too much, being disowned, if he was being entirely honest, it frightened him. Sirius didn’t want any part of his family’s fortune. He hated the lot of them; their cruelty, their hate, their self-proclaimed superiority. But when it came down to it, Sirius could not leave Regulus. Before there were ever the Marauders, there had been just Sirius and Regulus. They had helped each other survive growing up, and though Sirius didn’t like to admit it, he also knew he couldn’t leave Reg because he was the only thing stopping Reg from completely submitting to the Blacks. If Sirius left, Reg wouldn’t be strong enough to resist the family’s insane pureblood mania on his own.

But if Sirius stayed, he wasn’t sure how long he could resist it himself. At some point, would the fight just go out of him? How long would his Gryffindor courage last? So when Sirius had claimed, _“I’ll do my best, Moony”_ , he really had meant it. He had to promise Remus that, even if Remus didn’t know he had, so that he wouldn’t lose himself here at Grimmauld Place, where the world seemed to disappear and be replaced by shadowy corners and invisible hands that threatened to reach out in the night to suffocate him.

If he made a promise to Remus, Sirius knew, eventually he’d have to choose between his promise to his brother to stay and his promise to one of his best friends to fight. That was the only way to survive. By making a choice.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for not posting in a while! this chapter took a long time to write...so i hope you all enjoy!

The summer holidays, Lily decided, were going to be immensely more dull than usual. Now that she had ended her friendship with Severus, she really had no one else to spend the summer with besides Petunia. Lily had thought that wouldn’t be so bad, because although she and her sister were not on good terms, Petunia must still care about Lily, and maybe this would be a good chance, anyway, to repair their relationship. Yet Lily had managed to destroy any hope of this the second evening she returned from Hogwarts. Petunia had invited her boyfriend, Elliot Hopkins, for dinner. Lily had not even been aware Petunia had a boyfriend, and she certainly wasn’t pleased with her sister’s choice. Lily remembered Elliot all too well from primary school, when he and his friends would harass the vulnerable and often younger students in the schoolyard.

The moment Elliot entered their house, Lily could tell he had not changed in his bullying ways, but instead had grown even more pompous and arrogant in his teenage years. He was much more refined and polite and never said anything rude, but each time he spoke Lily could tell he was acting. He leaned back snootily in his chair, smirked rather than smiled, and looked at Petunia as if she were a prize rather than a person. Lily couldn’t really understand that last bit. She loved Petunia, but she couldn’t say her sister was the most beautiful or fun of girls.

“How long have you two been together?” Lily asked as she and Petunia did the dishes after Elliot had left. Petunia was washing while Lily dried.

Petunia pursed her lips before replying. “A few months.”

“Oh,” Lily said, surprised. “Mummy never mentioned it in her letters.”

“I’m sure she was too busy replying to the exciting things happening in your life to include it,” Petunia said.

“Um,” Lily said, not sure how to voice what she was thinking. “Don’t you think he’s just a bit…arrogant?”

Petunia set the glass she was scrubbing down hardly. She glared at the soap bubbles in the sink. “I knew I should have had him come when you were still at school,” she told the faucet. “Of course you would have some problem with him.”

“No, Tuney, it isn’t like that!” Lily exclaimed, hurt. “Why do you always assume I have it out for you? I just…he seemed a bit self-important and I just want you to be with someone who deserves you.”

Petunia sniffed. “I can figure out who deserves me for myself, Lily.”

“But I’m your sister,” Lily said, feeling small. “I’m supposed to tell you what I think. I’d want you to tell me.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Petunia snapped. “I told you a million times I didn’t like that Snape boy but you never listened.”

“You only didn’t like him because he was poor,” Lily crossed her arms. Then she blushed guiltily. “Though I suppose I should have listened.”

Petunia glanced at Lily with curiosity. “What happened?”

Lily forced herself to meet Petunia’s gaze and shrugged. “He just isn’t hanging out with the right crowd these days.”

Petunia smirked. “Well, Elliot isn’t like that.”

“How so?”

“Because!” Petunia exclaimed. “He’s friends with the same people as me, which is a perfectly good crowd, mind you, and he’s going to be a surgeon.”

“Just because he’s planning on an impressive career doesn’t mean he’s an impressive person,” Lily said. “You do remember him in primary school, don’t you?”

Petunia glared at her now. “How can you bring that up!”

“Because he was a bully and now you’re dating him!” Lily said.

“How would you know? You’re a year behind us in school,” Petunia huffed.

“I didn’t have to be in his class to see he was a bully,” Lily said. “Once when I was with Severus—“

“Oh just stop!” Petunia shouted suddenly. “I have something good for once, Lily, so you have to go and ruin it don’t you?”

“I told you that’s not what I’m doing, Tuney!” Lily said angrily. “Who do you think I am?”

“I don’t know!” Petunia exclaimed. “But everything is a lot better when you’re not here!”

“Fine!” Lily shouted back. “Then I’ll just leave!”

She stomped out of the kitchen to the front door, grabbing her bag along the way.

“Where are you going, darling?” her mother asked from the sofa.

“Out!” Lily said a little more aggressively than she’d intended. The door slammed behind her and she stalked off angrily down the street.

“Why is everything always a fight with her!” she muttered to herself as she rounded the street corner. “I was trying to be nice.”

It was not dark out yet. In fact, it was only about six o’clock, as they had held dinner rather early. She shifted her book bag on her shoulder. She had grabbed her school bag in her haste to storm off, which was still filled with the inappropriate amount of books she shuttled back and forth to school with her each term, and so weighed heavily on her shoulder. As she continued down the street, Lily realized this excursion was ill-advised. It wasn’t smart to be walking around alone these days, or leaving one’s Muggle family alone and vulnerable. In _The Prophet_ this morning, Lily had read of three more attacks, all of which had happened the previous night. She would have turned around if it hadn’t been for the mass of blonde curls she spotted bobbing about in the hydrangeas of a front garden she was passing.

“Hannah!” she exclaimed in delight.

From the flowers the impressive curls rose, and as Lily had suspected they were attached to a fair face and set of twinkling blue eyes.

“Lily!” the older girl smiled. (Though Lily reasoned she couldn’t really refer to Hannah as a girl anymore, seeing as she was now in her 20s). “What are you doing?”

“Just taking a walk,” Lily said.

Hannah raised one skeptical eyebrow. Lily had always been impressed with that ability. “Alone? You know that isn’t such a good idea. Haven’t you been reading The Prophet?”  
Lily sighed. “I had a fight with my sister. It seemed like a good idea in the moment to have a theatrical exit. If I returned now I’d lose all credibility.”

Hannah giggled, though Lily wasn’t entirely joking. “Why don’t you come have a cup of tea? I want to hear all about you O.W.L.s.”

Lily smiled and nodded. Hannah had been a sixth year at Hogwarts when Lily was a first year. The two had met by chance in the library in Lily’s first year, when Lily had been looking for information on a particularly advanced topic and Hannah, who as a sixth year was allowed to enter the Restricted Section, found a book for the younger student to read. They only discovered they lived in the same neighborhood later. Over the next two years, the Ravenclaw Prefect had taken Lily under her wing and even spent time with her over the summer holiday. Lily had been very sad when Hannah had moved to a flat in London to be closer to her job at the Ministry, and hadn’t seen her since the Christmas of her fourth year, when Hannah had spent the holiday at her parents rather than having them come visit her.

“So,” Hannah said as she put the kettle on the stove. “How has Hogwarts been? I’m sorry I never came to see you much after I graduated. The Ministry keeps me busy.”

“That’s alright,” Lily said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Hogwarts is just as great as always. I was made prefect.”

“Really? That’s wonderful!” Hannah exclaimed. “Who’s the other prefect in your year? Maybe I remember him.”

“Remus Lupin,” Lily said.

Hannah laughed. “Oh yes, I remember him. Or rather, I remember those other two boys he was always with.”

“Potter and Black,” Lily practically grimaced.

“They were always getting up to something,” Hannah shook her head. “Are they still like that?”

“Unfortunately,” Lily nodded. Then, not wishing to talk about Potter or Black any longer, added, “Are you still working in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?”

“No, thank goodness,” Hannah said. “I had thought it sounded exciting when I was in school, but whenever something exciting _did_ happen it was always followed up with a great deal of paperwork. I’m actually secretary to the Head of the Auror Office now.”

“Secretary? That’s sounds like it has a lot to do with paperwork too,” Lily teased.

“Well, yes, but in a different way,” Hannah explained. “It’s a lot more about organizing meetings and such. And it pays a great deal more, actually. Did you do career talks this year?”

“Yes,” Lily said, as the kettle began to sing and Hannah poured their tea. “I’m actually thinking of doing something with Magical Creatures.”

“Really?”

Lilly nodded. “Professor McGonagall said I would do well at the Ministry because of my leadership qualities and whatnot, but I don’t know…The Ministry just doesn’t seem right for me. And I feel like I still know so little about the magical world, I’d rather do something where I can continue to learn, something where I can do research. There’s this lovely Magical Creatures Reserve in New Zealand that Professor McGonagall told me about. They have a huge variety of animals and they do all sorts of research while at the same time working to preserve the species.”

“That’s wonderful,” Hannah agreed, pushing a teacup in Lily’s direction.

“So why are you here?” Lily asked. “If you still work at the Ministry and all.”

Hannah’s usually soft and delighted face suddenly grew tired and strained. “I’ve moved back home. With all the attacks happening, it just didn’t feel safe leaving them here alone.”

Lily stared down at her steaming tea. She knew the feeling. She had been worried sick about the attacks while she was away at school. Most of them, however, seemed to be linked to people who had wronged Voldemort in some way. She didn’t think anyone would attack her family—they had no reason to. But then again, plenty of the attacks were completely random, simply meant to instill fear.

“Where are they now?” she asked Hannah. The house had been quiet throughout their conversation.

“Shopping for pants,” Hannah replied. “My mum has been grumbling at the state of my dad’s trousers for ages.”

“Do you think…” Lily trailed off, then forced herself to not lose her nerve. “Well do you think they’d have any reason to attack them? Or anyone here, I mean. I just…I don’t know what I’ll do if it keeps getting worse. I can’t protect them when I’m at school.”

“I really don’t know,” Hannah admitted, and Lily’s heart sank. When she had been younger, Hannah had always seemed to have the answers to everything. Even when she didn’t have quite the right answer, she could send Lily in the right direction toward one. But having Hannah of all people admit she had no idea what might happen told Lily that there really was something to fear.

Suddenly Lily felt so stupid for storming out on her family. What if something had happened while she were gone? What if the last time she had spend with Petunia had been a fight?

“I should go,” Lily said, pushing back her chair. “Thank you for the tea.”

“Lily,” Hannah said. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. They have no reason to attack your family.”

There was something in the way Hannah had said it, the slight emphasis she had put on “your family” that made Lily wonder. She studied Hannah’s face. She had neglected to notice before the dark circles beneath the young woman’s eyes, or how her hair, though fastened in a high bun, was rather frizzy. Hannah’s hair was never _ever_ frizzy. She used Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion every morning, Lily knew, to tame her curls. Hannah was more worried than she let on, perhaps because she had particular reason to be. She was secretary to the Head Auror now…. Lily was sure that must mean Hannah knew all sorts of important information.

“Still…a lot of them are random,” Lily said.

“Yes, true,” Hannah agreed. Then she forced a smile. “It is getting late, you don’t want to worry your parents.”

Lily nodded. “What time do you get off from the Ministry? We should have tea again.”

Hannah smiled for real this time. “That would be lovely. It really depends, today I got lucky and managed to leave by five. That never happens, mind you. Generally it’s closer to eight or nine, really.”

“Then we'll have desert,” Lily joked. “I’ll come tomorrow at nine.”

“Desert it is,” Hannah agreed.

Lily walked quickly home, lugging her heavy book bag along with her. She was in such a rush that when she turned a corner she ran straight into someone. Startled, she nearly pulled her wand from where it was concealed in the sleeve of her hoodie. Then her eyes focused, and she realized who it was.

“Oh, Severus,” she said, unimpressed. He was about the last person Lily wanted to see.

“What are you doing out right now?” he asked her.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Lily said, crossing her arms. “Why are you even on this side of town?”

Severus’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and Lily wished she hadn’t gone so low as to jab at his family’s monetary status.

“I went to the Muggle library,” Snape said.

“Oh,” Lily replied. “Well.”

There was a tense silence. Lily wished suddenly that she could Apparate already so she could disappear from this awkward situation.

“Look,” Severus began. “I really am sorry—“

“No,” Lily said firmly. “You don’t get to apologize anymore, Severus. I told you, we aren’t friends now. We aren’t even acquaintances. I am perfectly happy spending my summer with Petunia rather than you.”

“Petunia?” Severus sneered. “That’s a bit extreme—“

“Don’t you sneer at my sister!” Lily exclaimed. “She’s not yours to sneer at! If anything that just convinces me that I really did make the right choice because the only reason you don’t like her is because she’s a Muggle.”

Snape looked aghast. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it, Severus?” Lily asked. “You don’t even know her. You never bothered.”

“Because she was awful to you and you didn’t seem interested in spending time with her either!”

“Well maybe I should have! It would have been better than wasting my time with you!”

“How can you say that? How can you—“ Snape fell silent suddenly, his face growing pale.

“What?” Lily demanded. “How can I what, Severus?”

“The Mark,” Severus breathed in reply, pointing up to the sky, his eyes growing wide with fear.

Lily whirled around. There, in the sky where he was pointing, hung the ghostly green image of a snake emerging from the mouth of a human skull. An icy feeling trickled from Lily’s head to her fingertips. She knew that image. She’d seen it in _The Prophet_ more times than she could count, and judging from its position in the darkening clouds, it was only a street or so over, about where Lily had just come from.

“Hannah!” Lily cried out.

“What?” Severus said.

“That’s above Hannah’s house!” she said quickly. She felt nothing but the need to run, and her legs would only direct her in the direction of the house. Without further explanation Lily ran in the direction from which she had come, pulling her wand from her sleeve and clutching it defensively in her hand.

When she reached Hannah’s, the front door was ajar. She paused at it, listening for voices inside. None came. She was about to step inside when a hand grabbed her wrist, causing her to whip around and press her wand to their neck.

“For Salazar’s sake, Lily,” Severus hissed. Lily hadn’t even realized he'd been following her. She lowered her wand. “We can’t just walk in there.”

“We have to!” Lily whisper-shouted back.

Severus looked like he might be sick. “It could be dangerous.”

“It’ll be a good sneak peak at your future career,” Lily snapped, turning back around to enter the house, but Severus grabbed her hand again.

“Lily—“

She yanked her hand from his grasp. “Just leave if you’re scared!”

She pushed the door further ajar, causing it to creak on its wary hinges. Walking on her toes and squinting through the dusky darkness of the house, she approached the entryway to the living room. She paused against the wall, listening intently. Severus stood beside her, looking miserable but holding his wand at the ready nonetheless. Lily peaked around the corner and gasped.

“Hannah!” she exclaimed, sprinting over to the fireplace which her friend lay beside, back propped up against the wall. The shadows Lily had noted under the older girl’s eyes earlier seemed black and blue now, and much of her hair had fallen from its bun. Her lips were bloody and cracked.

“Veri…tas…” Hannah attempted to speak. Lily saw the blood on her lips came from inside her mouth, where her front teeth were now missing.

“Shh, don’t talk,” Lily said. She wondered what sort of curses they had used on Hannah, how deep and possibly unseen damage was.

Hannah’s eyes flickered with anxious insistence. She reached out for Lily’s arms, and Lily was shocked to see that blood soaked the torn sleeves of Hannah’s shirt and oozed from where her fingernails should have been. The young woman squeezed Lily’s arms with surprising strength, silently commanding the girl to look away from the wounds and into her eyes. Lily obeyed.

“Ver-i-tas-er…um,” Hannah managed, squeezing out each syllable individually. “T-tell…Potter.”

“Potter?” Lily repeated in confusion, searching between Hannah’s eyes for a sign. But the young woman’s mouth fell slightly further open, her eyes went blank, and her grip on Lily’s arms loosened.

Lily stared in shock for a moment, a heavy suffocation worming its way into her lungs. Then something clicked in her mind, and she pushed the grief away.

She turned to Severus, who stood shocked and pale in the entryway. “We have to alert the Ministry.”

“What?” Severus said blankly, snapping out of his evident trance.

“The Ministry, we have to alert them about this.”

“But—how?”

“I don’t know, you’re the one who knows how this world works! I’m just a Mudblood, remember?”

“I told you I’m—”

“Forget that, it doesn’t matter right now! We have to alert them.”

“I’ve just never, you know, been in an emergency like this.”

“Well don’t they have some sort of hotline or phone number or whatever like the Muggles?”

Severus glanced around the room, as if the answer would emerge from the shadows. Spotting something, he rushed over to the fireplace, removing an elegant china vase from the mantle.

“We’ll Floo there, to the Auror office,” Severus said, reaching his hand into the vase to grab a handful of the Floo powder stored within.

“No, wait,” Lily said, resting her hand on his wrist to keep him from rushing to the fireplace. “If Hannah left by five, he must not be there either.”

“Who?” Severus narrowed his brow, not following.

“Potter!” she exclaimed. “She said ‘Veritaserum. Tell Potter’. James’s dad is the Head of the Auror office, isn’t he? Hannah was his secretary.”

“Oh, well I’m sure _James’s dad_ is the solution here,” Snape mocked.

“Don’t be such a git,” Lily said, reaching for a handful of Floo powder and then shoving past Severus to the fireplace. She glanced over her shoulder before throwing her powder into the grate. “Are you coming or not?”

Snape hesitated where he stood, and Lily loathed him for it. But he nodded and joined her. She took his hand and threw the powder, causing green flames to erupt before their eyes. Together, they stepped forward.

Realizing she hadn’t any idea Mr. Potter’s name, Lily panicked and exclaimed, “James Potter!”

Evidently this was enough direction for the Floo, for she and Severus went whirling and spinning sickeningly fast past various fireplaces, catching glimpses of the insides of other homes, until finally she felt herself falling and collided with a carpeted floor.

As she stood up, coughing and dusting soot from her clothes, a disbelieving voice said, “Evans?”

Before her was James Potter, lounging casually on a grand four-poster bed, an enormous book open in front of him. Before she could respond however, he spotted the other unexpected individual who had emerged from his fireplace and exclaimed, “Snape! What the bloody hell are you two doing in my bedroom?”

“This is your bedroom?” Snape said, attempting to sneer around his shock as he took in the vastness of the room. It was practically the size of the common rooms at school.

“I need to speak to your father immediately,” Lily rushed out before James could respond to Severus.

“My—what? Why?”

“It’s urgent. He’s home, isn’t he?”

“Well, yeah he’s home but—”

“There isn’t time to explain, Potter!” Lily cried.

“Merlin’s balls, alright,” James said, marking his place in the enormous book and sliding off the bed. “Follow me.”

They exited Potter’s room to discover the rest of the house was just as vast. The hallway was long, winding, and lined with paintings whose occupants, most of who possessed unruly black hair, eyed the three teenagers with curiosity. One even spoke out to James.

“Who’s this lot?” It was an elderly man who, surprisingly, had rather average looking hair, yet whose eyes were the same strikingly pale hazel shade of James’s.

“Classmates,” James replied, not stopping. The man walked through the line of portraits to keep up with his descendent.

“What’re they here for?”

“No idea,” James replied, and the painted man shrugged, too lazy to pursue the subject further.

The hallway opened to a grand staircase, which James led them down and around, to two tall ornate oak doors. He paused here and turned to Lily, looking ever so slightly anxious.

“Are you sure it’s urgent?” he asked in an undertone.

“Yes!” Lily hissed.

“But how urgent? Like, could it wait a few hours?”

“It’s extremely urgent, Potter!” Lily exclaimed.

“Shhhh! Alright, keep your voice down,” James said. “It’s just, you know, I don’t want to disturb him—”

“James Potter doesn’t want to disturb something?” Lily said. “I’ve never heard anything more ridiculous.”

“Well, you know, he’s busy,” James ruffled the back of his hair nervously.

“Merlin, Potter, are you actually frightened of your father?” Severus rolled his eyes.

“I’m not frightened of him,” James glared at Snape. “I’m just being respectful, Snivelly. You should try it some time.”

With that he turned around and knocked on the oak doors.

“Come in,” said a tired voice from inside.

James pushed the door open, but did not step inside. Lily could not see over his shoulder to the room inside.

“I’m sorry, Jamesie, I know I said we’d play Gobstones, but I’m completely swamped—”

“Oh, no, it isn’t that Dad,” James said. “I—er. There’s some of my classmates here to see you?”

“Classmates?” Mr. Potter repeated. “Is this one of yours and Sirius’s tricks?”

“No, no, it’s actually, um, this girl Lily Evans and her friend Severus Snape,” James explained. “They say it’s urgent?”

“Well, send them in, I suppose,” Mr. Potter said.

James held the door open for Lily and Snape. This room, no doubt Mr. Potter’s study, was slightly smaller than James’s bedroom, and was lined floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves containing all sorts of books and magical curios. Mr. Potter sat behind a desk in the center of the room. He looked very much like James, with the same eyes and same hair, but was rather broad where his son was lanky. He looked upon Lily and Snape with a mixture of confusion and amusement, apparently still not convinced this wasn’t a prank.

“I’m not sure how to say this, Mr. Potter, but, well, we need to report a…a murder.”

Mr. Potter’s brow furrowed, the amusement trickling out of his face. “Murder?”

“Of Hannah Everton, your secretary,” Lily said.

Mr. Potter narrowed his eyes, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands upon his lap. “How do you know that name?”

“I went to school with her my first and second years at Hogwarts and we’re neighbors,” Lily explained. “She was murdered by Death Eaters. The Mark is above her house.”

Mr. Potter blinked at her, considering this. He glanced past Lily to James at the door.

“You say these are classmates of yours?”

“Yes,” James nodded.

“How did they get here?”

“Floo-ed to my bedroom,” James replied.

“I thought I disconnected that fireplace from the Network?” Mr. Potter said sternly.

James glanced at his shoes guiltily. “Well, you did, but over Christmas Sirius and I—”

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Potter sighed. “Very well. You may go.”

James glanced between his father, Lily, and Snape, looking very much like he would rather do anything else than miss out on this conversation. But he nodded without protest and left the study, closing the door quietly behind himself.

“Why don’t you two take a seat,” Mr. Potter said, leaning forward again. Lily and Snape obeyed.

“Look, sir, I understand this must sound very strange and untrue but it really is urgent,” Lily tried to explain. “I saw Hannah die—”

“You were there?”

“I didn’t see the Death Eaters,” Lily said. “I saw the Dark Mark and went to see if she was alright. She was still alive when we got there, but all beaten up and bloody. I would’ve gone to the Ministry about it but her last words were asking for you.”

Fear flashed across Mr. Potter’s eyes. “Did she say anything else?”

“Yes. She said ‘Veritaserum. Tell Potter’ and then—”

“Veritaserum?” Mr. Potter repeated, and Lily swore she saw his face grow pale in the dim candlelight of the study. “You’re quite sure that’s what she said?”

“Yes,” Lily nodded slowly.

Mr. Potter stood up abruptly, crossing to the fireplace behind his desk. “Very well. I must go into the Ministry. James!”

The door to the study opened. James stood there, his face red with embarrassment for being caught in attempted eavesdropping.

“See that neither of your classmates leave this house. Auror Headquarters!”

With a burst of green flame, he was gone.

James glanced to each of them quizzically. “Is anyone going to tell me what in Merlin’s soggy trousers is going on here?”

“I…I really don’t know if we’re at liberty to say, to be honest,” Lily said.

James rolled his eyes. “Fine. Follow me, you can’t stay in here.”

“Wouldn’t it be more convenient?”

“He doesn’t want anything happening to precious daddy’s office,” Snape sneered.

“Oh, now you find your tongue?” Lily snapped. “Don’t pretend like you weren’t too afraid to speak when he was questioning us.”

Snape flushed pink. Lily saw James biting back a grin, but she turned her glare on him and he quickly wiped it away. She stood up and crossed toward the door, passing James into the hall.

“So are you going to show us to another massive room or what, Potter?” she demanded.

James blushed. “It’s not that big of a house.”

“This is a mansion Potter,” Lily said.

“No, no, it’s more like…a large estate?”

“That’s essentially the same thing,” Lily said.

James sighed, apparently at a loss for how to respond. “Yeah, well, c’mon then.”

He led them around the grand staircase, under a large archway, and through another set of ornate double doors. Finally they entered what appeared to be a kitchen, with shiny pots and pans hanging from the ceiling and a large table in the middle of the room. A women stood at the counter with her back turned to them. She had deep, fluffy auburn hair and wore beautiful violet robes with a pattern of blue finches fluttering on the sleeves.

“Mum, Dad’s gone to the Ministry,” James said. “Some, er, classmates of mine told him about…something.”

He shot Lily an annoyed glance after finishing his sentence, apparently frustrated that she hadn’t told him anything about what had happened.

The woman turned around with a raised eyebrow. Lily thought she was quite pretty.

“This isn’t one of yours silly pranks, is it James? Haven’t disguised Sirius and Remus as these two?” she nodded at Snape and Lily.

“No!” James rolled his eyes. “It isn’t as if the only thing I do is joke. And you could search the house if you wanted, Dad’s not here.”

“For all I know he’s in on it too,” Mrs. Potter sniffed, but she must have only been teasing, for the next moment she turned a concerned look upon Lily and Snape. “What in Merlin’s name happened that made you two loves have to speak to my husband at this hour?”

“We, um…” Lily trailed off. In all the chaos of finding Mr. Potter, she’d been able to push the reality of what had happened out of her mind. She had been in working-mode, focused only on relaying Hannah’s last words. But now the memory of Hannah’s sunken face, her bloodied body, returned to Lily’s mind, and she fought to keep tears from falling down her cheeks.

“We were reporting a Death Eater attack,” Snape supplied. Lily was thankful he’d remembered how to speak. “We didn’t witness it, but we saw the Mark and…we went to see what had happened.”

“By yourselves?” Mrs. Potter asked concernedly.

“Well…yes,” Severus said. “Lily’s parents are Muggles and…there wouldn’t have been time to get any help anyway.”

“That’s very brave of you,” Mrs. Potter said. It seemed as if she were calculating something. “Please, take a seat. You must be terribly shaken up. I’ll put the kettle on for some tea, but you’ll have to excuse me, I’m—redecorating the upstairs library.”

She quickly filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove. Then she bustled out of the kitchen. James gave his mother a funny look. Lily didn’t blame him. She didn’t think redecorating was the thing to be doing right now.

“The upstairs library?” Severus said. “Merlin, Potter, how many libraries do you have in this house?”

“A fair amount,” James shrugged.

“No wonder you have such an aversion to books at school.”

“It’s better than having an aversion to shampoo.”

“Do you have an owl?” Lily said before Snape could think up a retort. Both boys glanced at her as if they had nearly forgotten she existed in her silence.

“Er, yeah, why?” James asked.

“Because I need to owl someone, why else would I ask, Potter?” Lily said, but it came out sounding tired rather than snappish.

James looked at her with a worried expression. “Yeah…I’ll get it. Why don’t you take a seat, Evans?” As an afterthought, he added, “You too, Snape.”

Lily felt her feet move to sit at the table. Snape followed her. James opened a window above the kitchen sink and whistled lowly. There was a rustle of leaves and a flutter of feathers as in swooped an elegant Eurasian eagle owl. It landed on the table and cooed softly at Lily and Snape.

James set ink, quill, and parchment in front of Lily. “Who are you owling?”

“My parents. They’ll be worried I haven’t come back,” Lily said, scribbling quickly on the parchment.

_Helping a friend from school, will be back soon. Don’t worry._  
_-Lily_

_It isn’t that far from the truth_ , she assured herself as she rolled up the note. She certainly couldn’t tell her parents what had really happened. Then she’d have to explain everything that was going on in the wizarding world right now with Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Her parents wouldn’t understand it. It would just frighten them.

Lily let James tie the note to the owl’s leg. “I’ve alway thought you had a lovely owl.”

“Thanks,” James said, tickling the owl on the top of its head. It leaned into his hand contently. “Her name’s Circe.”

The owl nipped at James's fingers playfully when he finished fastening the note, then swooped out the open window. James closed it behind her.

“So,” he said, turning around. “Are either of you going to tell me what in the name of Merlin’s shaggy beard is going on here?”

Lily blinked nervously. She couldn’t do this right now. “I…I don’t think we’re allowed.”

“Oh c’mon, you Floo to my room, have a secret talk with my dad, use my owl, and won’t tell me what’s going on?”

“Well I’m sure you already eavesdropped on everything we told your dad,” Lily said.

James blushed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “No, he’s charmed the door. I can’t hear anything he doesn’t want me to.”

“If he doesn’t want you to hear it, then I’m not going to tell you,” Lily said.

“But—”

“You think it’s just a game, don’t you?” Lily demanded. “You think it’s exciting to find out what daddy’s secret business is, so you can have discussions with your little friends about it. You think it’s fun, but it’s not. There’s nothing fun about people dying, James. Especially when they’re your friends.”

The kettle began to sing. James stared at her with an unreadable expression before going to remove it from the stove. He busied himself with preparing it, finally setting steaming mugs in front of she and Snape. Then he leaned against the counter, nursing his own mug. Lily thought he almost looked as if he were thinking deeply.

“I know it isn’t a game,” he said at last, studying the contents of his mug. His sounded voice different. It held a note of seriousness and maturity she’d never heard in it before. “I of all people know that. I hear my parents talking, see how much later my dad works than he used to. I read _The Prophet_ , and not just the headlines. You have to really read it, front to back, to find out what’s truly going on. But it isn’t enough. They’re not telling us what’s happening because they think they’re protecting us. But we’re the ones who are going to be fighting this war when we leave school, and I for one don’t want to be unprepared when that time comes.”

“Do you really think there’ll be a war?” Lily asked.

James looked up, meeting her gaze with hard hazel eyes, but before he could respond, the door to the kitchen slammed open and Fleamont stood there.

“I need to question both of you,” he said. “Officially and separately. You first, Ms. Evans.”

Snape shot Lily a concerned look which she couldn’t help but return.

Back in Mr. Potter’s office, Mrs. Potter was also present, along with four other witches and wizards. When Lily and Mr. Potter entered, they seemed to be discussing something urgently over a clutter of parchment on the desk.

“Could you lot take this into another room? I have to deal with the Ministry business,” Mr. Potter said.

“Oh, yes darling,” Mrs. Potter nodded, snatching up the various parchments. The three wizards and one witch followed her quickly out of the office.

“Sit,” Mr. Potter said. He sounded much harsher and more straightforward than before.

Lily sat. Mr. Potter lit a few more candles with his wand before sitting across from her.

“I’m required to inform you that anything you say here will be recorded and put on Ministry record,” he said, shuffling through a drawer in his desk. He pulled out a think black quill and a small parchment notepad, but no ink. He tapped the two with his wand and they floated into the air, ready to record their words.

“What were you doing before the attack?” Mr. Potter asked. As he spoke, the quill scratched eagerly at the parchment.

“I—er,” Lily tried to ignore the quill. “I was walking home.”

“From where?”

“Hannah’s. I’d just been there for tea.”

“You visited Ms. Everton before the attack?”

“Yes.”

“How much time would you say had passed between you leaving Ms. Everton’s home and the attack?”

“It couldn’t have been that long,” Lily said. “I…I suppose its a little more than a ten minute walk from her house to mine. But I ran into Severus on the way home, so it was probably closer to twenty minutes? I really don’t know. I suppose it must have happened rather quickly. That’s unusual, isn’t it? Don’t they normally torture their victims for a while?”

“It really depends,” Mr. Potter replied grimly. “Where did you run into Mr. Snape?”

“A few streets over from Hannah’s. McCarthy Street, maybe? I’m not sure. It all happened so fast.”

Mr. Potter nodded. “And do you know where Mr. Snape had been?”

“Um…” Lily tried to remember. “I think he said he’d been to the library.”

“Then what happened.”

“Well, we were talking and then…then he saw the Mark. And I saw that it was over Hannah’s house, so I ran and Severus followed. We went in and she was—" Lily had to pause, for her voice wobbled and tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She took a breath. "She was beaten up but still alive. I thought…I thought maybe we could save her. But then she said—”

“Thank you, that’s enough,” Mr. Potter said, cutting Lily off. He pointed at something on the parchment and the quill scratched it out vigorously. Lily gave him a confused look, but his expression was unmoved. “Just one more question: how do you know Ms. Everton?”

“We went to school together. She was a sixth year when I was a first year,” Lily explained. The quill continued to scribble away. “We used to spend a lot of time together during the summer holidays before she graduated and began working for the Ministry. She was sort of like an older sister, but I hadn’t seen her for a few years until today.”

“Very well,” Mr. Potter seemed to mutter more to himself than to her. He tapped the parchment and quill again with his wand, and it fell to the desk.

“Mr. Potter, if you don’t mind me asking, why did you not have me talk about the Veritaserum on record?” Lily asked.

Mr. Potter stared at her, considering. He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward.

“Ms. Evans, what I am about to say to you is information I expect you not to repeat. In fact, I will put a charm on you to ensure you do not repeat it,” he said, pointing his wand at her and casting a charm without speaking. “The Ministry is not all that it seems. In the rise of You-Know-Who, as the papers seem to be calling him these days, there are less and less people we can trust. There are people, like Hannah, who have begun putting their faith in…other groups.”

“Like…groups fighting You-Know-Who that aren’t the Ministry?” Lily asked.

“Precisely,” Mr. Potter nodded.

“I hadn’t realized it was so serious,” Lily said, feeling stupid. “I mean, _The Prophet_ has been reporting attacks, but I thought the Ministry had it under control.”

“That’s exactly what they want you to think,” Mr. Potter said. “They do not allow _The Prophet_ to get hold of more…sensitive information.”

“So those Death Eaters gave Hannah Veritaserum to find out something about the…the resistance group?” Lily said.

Mr. Potter nodded. “There is an object You-Know-Who is looking for. We are not sure why. The Ministry previously had control over the object, but discarded it when they determined it contained no dark magic—no magic of any kind, in fact. But the group Hannah was working for wasn’t so sure. The Death Eaters believed she had information on its whereabouts.”

“Did she? Do you think they found something out?”

Instead of answering her question, Mr. Potter took a different route. “I tell you all this because entering that house tonight was extremely brave. Some might even say stupid, but then again, what is the difference? You have a future ahead of you, Ms. Evans.”

“A future in these resistance groups?” Lily asked.

“It’s something to keep in mind as the war escalates,” Mr. Potter said.

“So it is a war, then."

“It soon will be, if things do not improve,” Mr. Potter said. “I want you to keep your eyes and ears open moving forward. If anything else happens, report to me like you did tonight. If something happens while you’re at school, report to Dumbledore.”

“Professor Dumbledore is part of this resistance?” Lily said.

“You should be getting home,” Mr. Potter said, checking his watch. “Your parents must be worried. The Ministry has already connected the fireplace of your home temporarily to the Network. You can Floo from this fireplace.”

He stood up and removed an ornate box from the mantelpiece, opening the lid so Lily could take a handful of powder. She threw the powder into the fire, turning it green, stepped in, and shouted her address. With a whoosh, she was whirling past fireplaces and living rooms until she tumbled gracelessly into her own living room, covering the carpet in soot.

There was a cry from the sofa.

“Mummy! Lily just fell out of the fireplace!” Petunia exclaimed.

Her mother rushed in, her father in tow. Lily saw the note James had sent for her in his hand.

“Where on earth have you been?” her mother demanded.

Lily hardly knew where to begin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i meant to post this chapter a few months ago, but then i had exams and i never got to finish it :'( it's here now though, so I hope you all enjoy! the lyrics referenced in this chapter are from "Love of My Life" by Queen. If you haven't ever heard it, please go listen, it's a lovely song.
> 
> ****please note there is drug/alcohol use in this chapter. nothing major. but just so you know :)
> 
> annyyyways, please enjoy! i'm rly happy with how this chapter turned out.

When Sirius awoke, his head was pounding. He groaned, rolling on his stomach and shoving his pillow over his head in an attempt to block out the sunlight that streamed through the window. He wanted to forget the previous night, forget his whole miserable existence, in fact, but the memories crashed in on him.

They’d had another dinner with the Parkinsons. Orion had evidently decided it would be easiest to arrange a marriage with another rebellious pureblood rather than find someone “respectable” for Sirius. Neither he nor Alondra, however, were keen on marrying one another, and, to put it lightly, had caused a great amount of trouble during the second course of the meal. It had ended in the Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson forcibly shoving their daughter into the fireplace to floo away, and Sirius shouting at his father. Orion had raised his wand at his son, and would have used it too, Sirius knew, if it hadn’t been for Walburga’s angry shrieks that Sirius wasn’t “worth the trouble.”

The pounding in his head continued, laced with a strange ticking noise.

In frustration, Sirius sat up, sending to the floor the bottles of firewhisky he’d had Nobby bring him the previous night that now littered his bed. He squinted at the blindingly bright window and recognized the silhouette of a familiar owl.

Opening the window, he was met with what seemed a piercing hoot in his hangover induced state. Pip, Remus’s tawny owl, swooped in, landing on Sirius’s desk. He had a letter tied to his left leg and gazed at Sirius expectantly.

Sirius sighed, scooting off his bed to cross the room. As he did so, a sharp pain erupted on the bottom of his foot.

“For Merlin’s sake,” he muttered in annoyance when he lifted his foot to see it was bleeding. Apparently one of the bottles had broken on its way down to the floor. He hobbled over to his nightstand for his wand, cast a healing charm, then flopped into his desk chair.

“How’s Moony?” he muttered to the owl, scratching just beneath Pip’s wing, causing the bird to hoot contently at him. He untied the letter from Pip’s leg and fed him some owl treats before flopping back down on his bed.

He stared at the address of the envelope for a long time. It read “Padfoot”, and Remus had doodled a paw print to the right of this. Sirius traced his fingers over his name, written in Remus’s tight slanted cursive. He thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Then he thought that must be the firewhisky talking, so he opened the letter quickly to push the thought away.

_Pads,_

_Things haven’t been the best here lately. Mum’s sick. I know, it sounds like some kinda of sick karma since I’ve been telling people at school she’s been ill all these years to hide my furry problem. Dad’s taking her to St. Mungo’s today to see if the healers can do anything about it, since Muggle cancer treatments aren’t the best. He made me stay home, though. I wanted to argue, but I also don’t want to fight with him around Mum. She’s been really tired lately._

_Anyway, enough melodrama, right? How’s your summer been? James said you wrote him but didn’t mention any of the “arrangements”. Is the old man giving you much trouble?_

_I was thinking we could all meet in Diagon Alley for Pete’s birthday in a few weeks. Let James and I know if you can get away for a few days._

_Best,_  
_Moony_

Sirius read the letter about five times, smiling to himself despite the sad news it contained. He loved the way Remus wrote his letters. They were always more detailed and always had a note of seriousness that James and Peter’s didn’t, like he really wanted to illustrate for Sirius exactly what was happening.

Pip, who still sat on Sirius’s desk, hooted at him.

“The window’s open, you’re free to leave,” Sirius told the owl.

Pip hooted again.

“I’m not going to respond right this instant, so you might as well sod off,” Sirius rolled his eyes.

Pip glared at him with his dark eyes, but flew out the window.

Sirius reached for the pack of cigarettes on his nightstand, swearing under his breath when he realized there were only two left. Nevertheless, he lit one, watching the orange smoke curl into the air. They were wizard ones meant to reflect the user’s mood that he’d nicked from a shop in Hogsmeade. According to the chart on the box he was “unsettled.” Sirius snorted. “Unsettled” was putting it mildly.

He turned to his nightstand again, turning on the Muggle radio he’d adapted to work in magical environments back in fourth year. He searched through the stations, finally settling on his and the Marauders' favorite Muggle rock station, which was in the middle of a song.

_“…Bring it back, bring it back_  
_Don’t take it away from me because…”_

Sirius fished for a still partially filled bottle of fire whisky that lay on the floor by his nightstand and took a sip, closing his eyes as he felt the warm substance burn its way down his throat.

_“…You will remember_  
_When this is blown over_  
_Everything’s all by the way…”_

A memory worked its way to the forefront of Sirius’s mind. A bright day beneath the birch tree in May of fifth year, when the he had first heard this song.

_“When I grow older_  
_I will be there at your side to remind you_  
_How I still love you…”_

It had just been him and Remus that day, because James had the flu and was confined the the hospital wing, while Pete had been in detention for getting a T on his Charms essay.

_“…Oh, hurry back, hurry back_  
_Don’t take it away from me_  
_Because you don’t know what it means to me…”_

Remus’s eyes had been filled with the most beautiful oceans Sirius had ever seen that day. They had seemed to glow in the brilliant sun. Sirius could hardly remember what he and Moony had been talking about. All he could picture were those eyes, framed by the sparkle of the late spring sun.

_“Love of my life_  
_Love of my life…”_

Sirius opened his eyes as the music faded out, taking another swig of fire whisky. A new song began to play, but the other one continued to resonate in his ears.

_You don’t know what it means to me_

Sirius wondered if Remus remembered that day at all. Why would he? Certainly there was no reason for Remus to remember it, it hadn’t been a particularly magnificent day for anyone else. But Sirius had held it close to his heart, for he rarely got days spent just with Remus.

_You don’t know what it means to me_

The line continued to repeat in Sirius’s head. Without really thinking, he grabbed a sheet of parchment, a quill, and some ink from his nightstand drawer. He hovered his quill over the parchment, causing ink droplets to dribble onto it. Shaking himself out of this trance, he finally placed quill to parchment:

_Moony,_

_On the train I saw a boy with sandy-coloured hair. His robes were slightly tattered, and his face was equally worn. But his eyes were bright, so blue and clear. I could see into them just enough to want to see more._

_I didn’t understand it on that first train ride. Maybe I still don’t. But I can’t ignore how each time I close my eyes, those eyes look back at me. Their oceans so welcoming, I long to explore them, to become lost at sea. What would it take, I wonder, to get a chance to swim amongst their waves?_

_All this marriage arrangement nonsense would be so much more tolerable if it wasn’t for those eyes. I see them everywhere. They gaze at me not just from photos saved and memories cherished, but also from the back of my brain. Each time I make a decision, you are there. In my mind I see you, demand of myself—what would Remus think?_

_I made a promise to you. To give ‘em hell. I’m not sure I’ve done as well as you’d expect. But I won’t let them drown me, either. Sometimes, I think, barely floating is just as good as flying. There are far too many things I have to do. How can I stay true to my promise to you, without abandoning Reggie? Beyond that, am I really ready to give up the only family I’ve ever known, even if they are the way they are?_

_I see your eyes blinking at me now. I know what they’re saying: This isn’t your family, Sirius. The Marauders are your family. I am your family._

_I think…I think if I could know. If I could know whether you’d love me given what I’ve said, in the way I’ve said it…then I’d be able to leave it all. Maybe even Reggie. If you could say you love me, really love me, not like James or Peter loves me._

_I stare into your eyes, searching for an answer. I hold the photo we took and search your smile. I trace my fingers upon the words you write me._

_Will he love me?_

_I suppose you know now what my answer is._

_Unequivocally yours,_

_Sirius_

Sirius stared at the letter, refusing to read it over. He felt stupid for writing it. As if he’d actually send anything like that to Moony! Especially when Remus was dealing with everything with his mum…. _The last thing he should have to deal with is his best mate confessing his undying love for him,_ Sirius thought. All the same, he couldn’t bring himself to tear the letter up. He folded it carefully, wrote Remus on the front, and placed it on his nightstand.

Then he buried his head beneath the pillow and slept the rest of the day. His parents sent no house elves or Regulus to bother him, which told him he was in deep trouble for what happened last night. He tried to convince himself he didn’t care.

\- - -

The next morning Sirius wasn’t so lucky. Regulus banged on his door at seven-thirty in the morning, summoning him to breakfast.

“I’m not hungry!” Sirius declared, still mostly asleep.

“Just get your arse downstairs, alright?” Regulus said, then stomped off.

Sirius groaned. He rolled over, rubbing the sleep from his face. He smelt awful. He hadn’t showered for a few days, and the amount of firewhisky he’d consumed wasn’t helping matters. He considered showering, then decided his father would be mad at him whether he was late to breakfast or smelt terrible, and so dressed. He pulled on a wrinkled Queen shirt Remus had given him for his last birthday and jeans, shook his now oily hair out in front of the mirror, then headed downstairs.

“Filthy blood traitor!” his mother’s new portrait screeched when he walked by.

“Relax, I haven’t actually left yet,” Sirius muttered back.

In the dining room, his father looked at him with disdain over the morning’s _Prophet_. Sirius dropped his gaze to the floor and sat beside Regulus. Not in the mood to eat despite having consumed nothing but firewhisky for over a day, he grabbed the ornate salt shaker from the center of the table and began constructing a tiny mountain in the middle of his plate.

“Sirius, stop that,” Walburga sniffed. “You’re not a child.”

“I am in the eyes of the law,” Sirius replied.

Orion folded his _Prophet_ calmly, then fixed Sirius with his deathly stare. Sirius slouched further into his seat in an attempt not to squirm beneath the gaze.

“You will not come to breakfast in this state ever again,” his father decided. “If you wish to live in this house, you will make yourself presentable. That means washing yourself, and wearing proper clothing. I expect you will get rid of these Muggle garments you have accumulated such a surplus of.”

“If I wish to live in this house?” Sirius repeated.

“Yes,” Orion said, his voice dangerously cold.

“Well, the thing is, I’m not sure I do,” Sirius responded, equally cool.

“How _dare_ —” his mother began.

“Would you shut up?” Regulus whirled on his elder brother. Sirius gaped at him. Regulus never spoke out of turn around their parents. “Do you realize what you’re doing, or are you really so thick as to think there aren’t consequences to your actions?”

“Reg, I—”

“You would be wise to listen to your brother,” Orion said, returning to his newspaper, as if the matter was settled. “You aren’t in a position to receive any more chances, Sirius.”

Sirius glared at the pile of salt on his plate. He knew Regulus was right. He knew his father meant what he said, too, about not getting any more chances. But he didn’t know what to do anymore. He wished someone would just decide for him—whether to stay with Reg, or to leave it all behind.

The door crashed open, causing them all to glance over, as if a long lost fifth member of the family might materialize before their eyes, having returned from a grueling, decade-long trek through the wilderness. It was only Nobby, though. He had yet to learn the housekeeping art of subtlety.

“Nobby is sending out the owls now,” Nobby explained, marching over importantly to Orion. Sirius always thought the elf looked like he was playing the role of a House-elf rather than actually being employed as one. “Is there anything else Master Black would like Nobby to send?”

Orion took the stack of envelopes from Nobby and began to flip through them. “I’ve changed my mind about the donation to the Ministry,” he explained to Walburga. “Selwyn—he works in the magical creatures department now, remember—informed me there’s been movements to pass reforms regarding werewolf rights. No doubt the halfbloods are attempting to get the werewolves on their side now that the Dark Lord is recruiting them.”

“Is he really?” Walburga asked.

“Oh yes, Selwyn also informed me of that,” Orion nodded. “The Dark Lord’s been recruiting many dark creatures recently. He’ll have the dementors on his side in good time. Of course—”

Orion stopped mid sentence, staring at the letter now at the top of his stack.

“Nobby, what is this?” he asked darkly.

“Oh, a letter from Master Sirius to one of his school friends, Nobby expects,” Nobby replied brightly. “Master Regulus has two he’s sending as well.”

“I don’t send my letters through—” Sirius froze, realizing what the letter must be. Without thinking, he lunged across the table to snatch it from his father, but his mother shouted an incantation at him, sending Sirius flying back into his seat.

“That’s not meant to…” Sirius started, but trailed off, watching in horror as Orion read the contents of his letter to Remus.

Orion fixed his gaze upon Sirius, his face now livid. Sirius couldn’t comprehend a time his father had looked this furious.

_You aren’t in a position to receive any more chances, Sirius._

“This…” Orion said, his voice low and dripping with pure hatred. “This is why you’ve been so against marrying the Parkinson girl? Because you have some—some _perverted_ relationship with this Lupin boy?”

Sirius gulped. “I don’t have a relationship with him.”

“Then why are you writing love letters to him!” Orion exclaimed, throwing the stack of letters upon the table and standing from his seat.

Instinctively, Sirius stood too. “I wasn’t going to _send_ it.”

“You are the heir of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!” Orion shouted. “And you choose to—to pursue _boys_? It’s diabolical!”

“I didn’t choose anything, Father,” Sirius growled, clenching his teeth. “That isn’t how being gay works.”

“Are you really so committed to making my life as difficult as possible?” Orion demanded.

“Oh, yeah, because I definitely _decided_ to be gay just to start a fight with you!”

“No son of—Regulus should be the heir!” Orion said.

Sirius couldn’t help it. He laughed. It was a full, barking laugh, as if the maniacal aspect that came with being a Black had finally escaped the confines of his mind.

“You say that like it’s a threat!” he told his father. “Do you have any idea how much I would love that? To not be the heir of the bloody Blacks? To have been born in any other family?”

“We should have disowned you the moment you were sorted into Gryffindor!” Walburga shrieked.

Sirius rounded on her, still laughing. “Which is worse for you, Mother? That I’m a Gryffindor or that I’m gay?”

“Do not dare call yourself that!” Orion said.

“Or what, Father?” Sirius demanded, seething. “What will you do?”

That, evidently, was the wrong question to ask. Before Sirius could react, Orion had raised his wand and yelled, _“Crucio!”_

And then there was pain, searing pain. Hot and cold all at once, it burned his skin inside and out. It was pain, pain, all over so he could not see. He was not aware of falling to the ground, but felt the rough antique carpet beneath him as he writhed in agony. He heard someone scream. _He’s done it to Regulus too,_ a voice in his head— _his_ voice—said. He scratched at his skin, trying to rip the pain from it, and the screaming grew louder. He realized, briefly, that the cry came from his own throat.

All at once, the pain subsided. His bones ached and his head screamed, but, for just a moment, this was a welcome feeling compared to what had been before.

“Get up!” Regulus hissed, pulling Sirius to his feet. Sirius blinked. His eyes were full of tears, and there were black and yellow stars dancing across his vision, but he could make out a shimmering, silver screen…like a wall of silver milk…

Regulus dropped Sirius on his bed. Sirius closed his eyes. He wondered what it would be like in the morning…

“C’mon,” Regulus muttered, pulling Sirius back up, to another room, but Sirius kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see; it hurt too much. He thought he wouldn’t mind dying, not at all.

He smelt old ash, and something big and box-like shoved beside him. Then Regulus pressed something in his hand…parchment?

“I love you,” Regulus said. He sounded very close, maybe right by Sirius’s ear. “You know that, you stupid bastard?”

“Save you,” Sirius responded. His head was pounding, and his bones seemed to ache more and more with each breath he took.

“No,” Regulus squeezed Sirius’s shoulder. It hurt him, but Sirius made no noise. “No, you have to save yourself.”

Then he threw something at Sirius. Sand? And there was warmth around the former heir. The backs of Sirius’s eyelids turned from orange to green.

He heard Regulus say something very loudly. Too loudly. It hurt Sirius’s head.

_“Potter’s house!"_

And then Sirius was swirling, being sucked through a pipe…like he was water…but it made everything worse. His bones screamed, his skin cried, and his head pounded so loud he thought it must be exploding.

He felt himself slip out of consciousness, and thought, _I really am dying now._


End file.
